


Uncertain Future

by Punchdrunkdoc



Series: Present Tense [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4x20, F/M, Felicity POV, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punchdrunkdoc/pseuds/Punchdrunkdoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baby Sara wasn't the only one on the back of a bike that night...</p><p>This is a Felicity POV set in episode 4x20, that explores some of her feelings about the break-up. It's part of the Present Tense universe - some of the events of Present Tense, and New Reality, are mentioned but it's not essential to have read those stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncertain Future

The strands of the beaded curtain obscuring the doorway clinked softly as Felicity passed through them. 

She blinked rapidly as the casino once again came into view - the bright chandeliers, noise and bustle of the gaming floor a stark contrast to the soft candlelight and echoing stone walls of the...nexus...she'd just left. 

Esrin Fortuna turned to face her in a sinuous movement, the embellishments on her dress glinting in the light. "Adiós amor," she said as she gracefully bent to kiss both of Felicity's cheeks. "Remember my message for Constantine." She winked and walked away, but not before throwing an indecipherable look towards Oliver. 

Felicity glanced over her shoulder at him. He hadn't said a word since he'd failed his last 'lesson' - although, in his defence, throwing a cloud of black magic at someone hardly constituted proper teaching technique. When the smoke around him had cleared, Oliver had been on his hands and knees in the dirt, his eyes haunted and pained. He didn't look much better now - there was a distinct grey cast to his features and his breath was slightly ragged.

Whatever he'd seen or experienced back there had really rattled him.

Concerned, she pulled him over to the bar and ordered them both a fortifying glass of vodka, hoping it would calm his nerves. Instead, it just seemed to compound his despondency; he silently drank, staring at the glass between sips with a beaten look on his face.

“We’ll find someone else to teach you magic,” Felicity suggested, trying to cheer him up. “Someone with more answers and less smelly incense.”

“She was right, you know,” Oliver responded in a flat tone. “It’s not about the magic. It’s about me.”

“If she didn’t see anything worthy inside of you, she never would have dealt with us.”

“She didn’t deal with us, she dealt with you,” he sighed. “She didn’t reveal herself until you offered her your chips.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, ready to interject, but he continued in a low, defeated voice. “And that has always been the way with us, Felicity. You are the one who brings the light.” He shrugged helplessly, “You know, I’ve told you that I’ve seen magic that’s turned good people dark, but all Fortuna did was show me who I really am.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t do this,” she said slowly. “Every time you face a set back you throw yourself a pity party-”

“It’s not a pity party. It’s acceptance,” he countered. “You said it yourself - no matter what I do I’m always going to revert back to the person I became on the island.” 

She sucked in a breath and winced at the reminder of her harsh words to him. “Yeah, when I said that I was hurt - I was going through one of the most painful experiences of my life.”

She was still going through it, though the acute pain had faded and the grief over their relationship had been pushed aside by the shock of losing Laurel. But still, there wasn’t a day - a moment - that she didn’t miss their relationship. Miss them. 

Being away - however briefly - from the team had helped. Being able to concentrate on something other than the deterioration of their relationship, gaining some distance from his hurt glances and lingering looks, had allowed her to start to heal.

And she’d needed some space to prevent the destruction of their friendship - the very foundation of their connection. Her behaviour during the Cupid case - the sarcastic asides, the biting, snide remarks - reflected her genuine pain, but that didn’t mean she was proud of it. She had a tendency to lash out when hurt, and Oliver had born the brunt of it during those few days. 

That was another reason she regretted her words. Instead of shrugging them off as the heat-of-the-moment barbs they were, Oliver took them to heart. He was always so quick to believe the worst in himself.

And that’s why she needed to undo some of the damage she’d caused. “Oliver, you are not perfect,” she began. “But none of us are. The good news is that,” she said lightly patting his jacket, “All of us can change.”

He nodded at her words, a slight smile on his face. But a noticeable lull fell over their conversation, the awkwardness of their silence made all the more apparent by the laughter and noise of the gamblers around them. 

"We should go," Oliver declared as he drained the last of his glass. 

Felicity nodded in agreement - there really was no reason to stay any longer. She finished her own drink then hopped off the bar stool, her ankle wobbling slightly as her sky-high heels hit the floor. Oliver caught her by the arm to steady her, his large, warm palm cradling her bicep.

She stifled the gasp at the contact, but couldn’t prevent the goosebumbs that broke out over her skin - the involuntary response betraying her reaction to such an innocuous gesture. 

Touch between them used to be so natural. More than just instinctual - it had been unconscious, as if his body was just an extension of her. His skin, hers to touch; his hair, hers to stroke; his kisses, hers to take. 

And the opposite had been true. During the early months of their relationship, he couldn’t keep his hands off her - as if feasting after the years he’d gone hungry for her skin. 

But now…now, she was hyperaware of every millimetre of contact between them. And it was only intensifying her craving of him. She pulled away, the movement subtle - so as not to hurt him - but necessary for her peace of mind. 

As they headed up the stairs to the exit - they took the whole ‘underground casino’ thing literally in Hub City - she stifled a yawn, glad that she’d booked a hotel and they didn’t have to rush back home. It would be good for Oliver too - he could enjoy a good night’s sleep in a proper bed, instead of the cot he was using in the bunker. 

The sight of his meagre living arrangements earlier that day had broken her heart anew. Oliver had thrived on the simple domesticity of their life together in Ivy Town - the shopping, the cooking, even the interaction with their neighbours. He was a man who wanted a home - who deserved a home. And the fact that he’d moved out of the loft and regressed to such a spartan existence, it added yet another layer of guilt and sadness to their breakup. 

As they emerged onto the street level, Oliver’s phone suddenly started beeping with incoming messages - the lack of reception in the casino blocking them until now. Felicity cast Oliver a panicked look as he pulled the phone from his pocket - that many messages could only mean something had gone horribly wrong back home. Leaning against his side to read the phone’s display, her fears were realised as she absorbed the increasingly desperate distress calls from Digg and Lyla.

When the last of the messages had been read, they quickly glanced at each other and, without a word, took off running for the company-hired town car that was idling on the side street. They tumbled into the back seat and Oliver slammed the door shut behind them barking, “Airport. Now,” to the startled driver. 

***

Felicity paced the aisle of the jet’s interior, too anxious to sit. They’d been in the air for twenty minutes, but there was still another fifteen to go before they landed in Star City. 

And in their line of business, a lot could happen in fifteen minutes.

She could feel the worry and concern radiating off her until it permeated the small cabin of the plane. Concern for Digg, concern for Lyla and baby Sara, concern for Thea - who they still hadn’t managed to get a hold of - and concern for Oliver. 

He’d been silent since they’d boarded the plane and took off, the fingers of his left hand worrying his bottom lip as he started, unseeing, into the night sky beyond the small window next to his seat. 

After they’d levelled off, Felicity had retreated to the small private room at the rear of the plane to change out of her gown. When she’d returned to the main cabin to take up her nervous vigil, Oliver had been in the exact same position. 

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, desperate for something to break the tension. 

Oliver slowly turned his head to face her as she sat in the chair opposite. “We head to the bunker. I’ll suit up, you’ll man the comms,” he replied, his voice hard and contained. 

“You’re angry with him. With Digg,” she realised. __That’s__ why he’d been so quiet - it wasn’t a retreat from her, it was just a way to stop himself from exploding. 

“Yes, I’m angry,” he gritted out. “I told him to let Andy go until we could find a way to fight Darhk. He’s being reckless, and he’s putting his family in danger.”

“He’s hurting, Oliver. He feels betrayed by his brother, and wracked with guilt over Laurel. You can’t expect him to act rationally.”

Oliver sighed and cast his eyes down to the floor between them. 

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it?” she asked, causing him to raise his eyes again in question. “You’re so used to John being the rational one - being the voice of reason.”

“I don’t know how to help him, Felicity,” he said softly, his voice pained. “I can see him spiralling - losing control - and I don’t know how to stop him.”

“I don’t either. And maybe this isn’t something we stop. Maybe it’s just something we help him through.”

“The only way out is through,” he whispered, almost to himself. Then he shook his head and continued in a soft, wistful voice. “I really thought things could be different, this time around.”

“What do you mean.”

“When I became the Green Arrow, it was supposed to be different. _I_ was supposed to be different - a source of hope and inspiration, instead of an instrument of darkness.”

Felicity shook her head sharply, “You have been, Oliver. You had the city on your side, you stopped Malcolm when every option seemed hopeless, and when I blamed myself after Laurel’s death, you helped me - you pulled me out of that darkness.”

It was true. And it was such a stark contrast to the way he’d handled loss in the past. After Tommy’s death, he’d ran; after his mother’s, he’d abandoned his sister and retreated into a borderline suicidal mindset. With Sara’s death just last year, he’d pushed Felicity away and hid behind a mask of nihilistic stoicism.

But now…he wasn’t letting guilt consume him. He wasn’t seeing Laurel’s death as some sort of omen for his eventual end. And he wasn’t running from his grief. He’d spoken at Laurel’s funeral, using it as a way to honour the legacy she’d left behind. He was there for the team - for her - and he was guiding them through their loss. 

With all of his talk of the darkness within taking over, she’d been worried that the progress he’d made in Ivy Town had been undone. That all his hours of therapy had been for nought. But she could still see the change in him, even if he’d lost sight of it. 

And it was her job to remind him. 

“You need to remember _that_ , Oliver” she pleaded. “Remember how much good you’ve done, instead of all the bad. Remember how much you’ve inspired the people around you - me, Digg, Barry, even Ray. Remember that there are people who believe in you. Remember that there’s always hope.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. Just then the pilot announced their descent and Felicity glanced out of the window to see the lights of Star City grow brighter. 

The plane touched down five minutes later. As they waited for the it to taxi into position, Felicity forced a casual tone into her voice and informed Oliver that she wouldn’t be manning the comms tonight. 

“What?” he asked in confusion.

“The team is two people short. I’m not needed behind a computer screen, I’m needed out in the field. I’ll take the van and try to intercept Lyla’s fortress-on-wheels.”

The engines shut off - Oliver’s cue to open the heavy cabin door. As they bounded down the stairs, he tried to change her mind. “Felicity, we don’t know what’s out there - the whole thing could be a trap-”

“And that’s all the more reason for me to help - I can’t sit by while Digg’s family is caught in the crosshairs. If something happens to Sara…”

“I understand. I just…I’m allowed to worry about your safety,” he said, his feet hitting the tarmac. He turned to help her with the last high step and she took his hand whilst nodding. “Yes you are. But it’s my life, it's-”

“You’re choice,” he finished. “I remember.’

She smiled up at him. 

“Let’s go, then,” he gestured to his bike which was parked where he’d left it earlier that evening. They’d arrived at the airport separately, him on his bike, her in a town car - which was now waiting on the other side of the plane. 

“But the car…” she reminded him.

“This will be quicker. Come on.”

He swung his leg over the seat and started the engine. 

She hesitated. “But I don’t have my helmet,” she said inanely, thinking of the cute red one she used to wear in Ivy Town. 

“You won’t need one. I won’t crash, Felicity,” He peered up at her from his seated position. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

“I trust you with my life,” she responded. The words should have been a humbling declaration but the unsaid _“just not with my heart’_ hung in the air between them, causing her to wince internally, and Oliver to grimace and look away. 

She sighed and hitched up the skirt of her dress before clambering on the back of the bike. Once she was securely situated, he revved the engine once, then took off. 

She hadn’t been on the back of his bike in months - not since Ivy Town. And whilst the rumble of the engine against her thighs, the wind whipping her face and the blur of the road beneath her feet were familiar, the experience felt wholly different. 

They used to streak down the roads completely in sync, moving as one as they leaned into the bends, her body plastered against his back like she wanted to fuse with his skin. 

Now her hands felt stiff and awkward where they clamped his waist and there was a noticeable gap between their bodies. Their leans were off too - not enough to unbalance the bike, but enough to serve as a stark contrast to their last ride together. 

The night he’d taken her to watch a meteor shower. 

It had been a magical surprise, a gift of gratitude for her patience as he worked through his therapy. It had been just one of the million wonderful, thoughtful, caring things he’d done for her. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, and a single tear leaked out. She could have blamed it on the frigid wind stinging her eyes, but the truth was a poignant ache in her soul. 

She missed their life together. 

She missed him. 

She missed his presence in her bed, missed his strong arms around her, missed his soft smile over dinner, missed his kisses, his touch, his love. 

She still felt the knife wound of betrayal whenever she thought back to the lie that had ruined it all…but that wound was slowly closing. And the accusation she’d thrown his way when she’d returned his ring a second time - that he would always be the isolated man from the island - well, she’d already admitted they had come from a place of pain, not truth. 

His actions during this time of grief and turmoil were proving those words wrong. He _was_ capable of changing, of growing. 

And maybe she needed to change as well. 

Sometimes, in the dawning hours of the morning, when she was alone in her silent apartment with nothing for company but her memories, she thought maybe - _maybe_ \- she was wrong to have given up on Oliver so quickly and completely.

It was the sequela of her own trauma - the scar caused by an absent father, the first in a line of men who had left her. The scar that suggested it was better to cut and run than wait for the inevitable pain of being discarded.

The scar that had caused her to dissolve their relationship at the first major test of its strength. 

Oliver’s lie may have been the trigger, but their break-up was a symptom of _both_ of their underlying issues. 

And she couldn’t expect him to work through his issues, if she didn’t also examine her own…

The question was, to what end? Just forgiveness? Or a second chance?

_Did she love Oliver enough – and want to be with him enough – to risk similar heartbreak in the future?_

The question that Martin had posed during their mini-therapy session over the phone, was always in the back of her mind. 

In the midst of the initial pain of letting him go, and her anger over his betrayal, the answer had been an obvious and resounding _no_. But her love for him was a tangible, powerful, overwhelming entity - and it wasn’t diminishing with distance or time, unlike that pain and anger. 

_Did she love Oliver enough – and want to be with him enough – to risk similar heartbreak in the future?_

The bike slowed as Oliver turned down the street where the abandoned campaign office was located, the broken momentum pulling Felicity from her thoughts. As the bike came to a stop, she realised that at some point during the ride, she’d unwittingly moved closer to Oliver, until she was pressed against his solid back, her cheek nestled in the wool of his jacket, her arms a vice around him. She took a deep breath and detached herself from him, wiping the tear tracks from her face as she dismounted the bike. 

Oliver turned to face her, his features set in fierce determination. 

“You ready?” he asked, referring to their friend’s rescue mission.

But a different question echoed again in her head.

_Did she love Oliver enough – and want to be with him enough – to risk similar heartbreak in the future?_

She opened her mouth, hesitated for a moment, but then let her heart speak for her. 

“I think so,” she replied.


End file.
